The Founders' Youth
by katiehufflepuff
Summary: Before Hogwarts existed, there were The Founders.
1. Chapter 1

**The Founders' Youth**

**All characters belong to J.K. Rowling**

**Chapter One**

"There! That's the last of them!" Helga had just finished dusting her famous Welsh Cakes with icing sugar. Bustling around the kitchen, she pulled out her wand and muttered an incantation. She had to be careful, her best friend Rowena was in the next room and had no idea that Helga, was in fact, a witch. Plates and chalices glided from a cupboard to the table and the dirty baking equipment flew to the bucket. Helga tucked a stray strand of brown hair behind her ear and poured some homemade rose water. Picking up the snacks, she fluttered into the living room and greeted Rowena.

Her best friend had travelled all the way down from Scotland just to see Helga. They'd met when both of their families had holidayed in the small town of Maidenhead, Berkshire. The two had literally fallen into each other as they tripped on the cobblestones of High Street. Their awkward meeting led to a close friendship between themselves and their parents.

"Mmm… Helga, you've done it again." Rowena drawled happily. Her half closed lids hid intense brown eyes that warmed only around Helga. Rowena loved spending time with her friend. The comfortable house, reassuring conversation and amazing food made the long travel worth-while. Sadly, Rowena knew that their friendship couldn't last long as she was a witch and Helga was… well… a Muggle! If only she could confide completely in her Welsh friend, but alas, it was forbidden. "How do you make these? They're beautiful," Rowena asked.

"Just a little… Magic!" Helga laughed nervously, hoping she hadn't given anything away. Her eyes locked with Rowena's conflicted gaze for a moment before she looked away hastily. After a long silence while they nibbled the Welsh Cakes, Helga asked "Are you okay, Rowena?"

Rowena couldn't go on like this. She'd been friends with Helga for five years now. Surely the Wizard's Council wouldn't mind ONE Muggle knowing their secret? Slowly, Rowena raised her eyes to look into Helga's soft blue ones.

"I…I…" Rowena, for the first time in her life, was stuttering. "I'm a witch!" She blurted. Rowena quickly stood, knocking her chalice to the ground. She awkwardly tried to scoop up the spilt rose water, to no avail. All the while, Helga looked disbelievingly at her. She couldn't believe this. Was Rowena messing with her? Did she mean "witch" in the same way that Helga was?

"You're… a witch?"

"Yes… No… Ugh, I should've left my mouth closed"

After a short silence as Rowena tried to regain her elegant aura, Helga recited "I swear to use my magic to do Good, to not think of myself as superior…"

Rowena turned, stunned. Helga couldn't be reciting the oath! Not _the_ oath! She was a Muggle!

"…To never use magic in the presence of the non-magical and to keep the Secret." Helga finished.

"How…?" Rowena didn't finish her sentence.

"To think all these years I thought you a Muggle" Helga said, a smile slowly creeping onto her fair face.

"And I, you!" Rowena replied. How could this be happening? _I must be dreaming_ Rowena thought.

Suddenly there was a loud squeal and Helga threw herself at her dignified friend.

"Oh I can't believe this! How did we not realise? How did our _parents_ not realise?! This is amazing! Think of the adventures we can now have! This is going to be the Best. Friendship. EVER!" Helga gushed, delighted to finally have a magical friend.

"Yes… I suppose it is" Rowena smiled then gave in and returned her friend's embrace.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Quietly, Godric slipped out of bed. He brushed the hay off of his tunic and began his journey. Darting across the squeaky floorboards, the golden-haired boy reached his window. Carefully, he pushed open the wooden shutters and climbed onto the ledge. Taking one last look at his meagre bedroom, Godric jumped. It wasn't a long way down - only a few metres. Once he landed, Godric rolled under one of his step-mother's prized rose bushes. He waited silently, looking for any signs of disturbance within the household. None. Godric stood quickly, ripping his tunic on a rose thorn. "Oh for God's sakes!" he moaned, trying to tug his only garment free. Suddenly, light appeared in the cottage. Startled, Godric tried desperately to escape his thorny prison. Eventually, he managed to tear himself free and began to run. He dashed onto the road, blinded by his desperation. There was a cry as a horse reared above him, its hooves crashing to the ground mere centimetres away from his head.

"What're ya doin', laddie?" a thick voice called.

"Nothing! Just… uh… on a nightly stroll!" Godric replied as he stood.

"Well you're moving mighty fast to be on a stroll," The man leapt down from his horse and landed with a thud. "Lemme have a look at ya, boy." Before Godric could turn, the man grabbed his chin with an iron grip. "Ah, Godric, am I correct?" The man smiled cruelly.

"Godric? Who's Godric? Bit of a silly name for an orphaned town's boy!" Godric babbled.

"And who said he was an orphaned town's boy, eh?" the man's eyes glinted menacingly.

Stunned, Godric smiled helplessly. "Oh well! You got me! I'll just go back home now!" He turned to leave, but a heavy arm came to rest on his shoulder.

"Oh-hoh! As if I'd let you run away again! You've caused enough problems with your brave little antics. I'm going to deliver you home myself."

"Oh no! That's really not necessary!" Godric struggled to escape the man's weight.

"Come on, boy. There's no need to squirm. I'm only taking you home to a warm, loving family" the man's voice was thick with relish. It was well known that Godric's stepmother – Lucia Gryffindor, widow to the baker, John Gryffindor – was a cruel lady with an obsession of money. John had been a kindly man, with a knack for cooking. His previous wife – Godric's birth mother – had run away after claiming him to be a demon with magical powers. Her love for John withered away as she became mad with the knowledge that her son was no ordinary boy. After many a heartbroken night, John had married Lucia. However, his heartbreak had injured him deeper than he'd thought, and John died only a year after the disappearance of his first wife.

Godric continued to struggle, writhing in the man's grasp. As he moved, a thorn caught on his tunic ripped the man's flesh. A short curse was heard as the captor let go of Godric. Taking his chance, Godric ran. He ran down the rough mud road. He leapt over fences as he crossed into fields. He ran until he could run no more. Slowing to a halt at the outskirts of a wood, Godric ran his arm across his sweat-drenched forehead. He slumped against the nearest tree as he regained his breath. He knew he didn't have much time before the local police caught him. They'd be out looking for him now. No doubt his stepmother had spun some extravagant tale of his ungrateful behaviour. If only he had someone to look after him.

Exhausted, Godric crawled further into the woods. He didn't care if he was dirty, he wasn't expecting company. At least not company he cared about. With the last of his energy, Godric tried to light a fire. He gathered branches, although they were still damp from the morning's rain. After a long while of trying to create a spark, Godric threw the twigs away from him in frustration. He closed his eyes and that frustration kindled anger. Anger burned up from within him. Anger from his stupid fire, his stupid evil stepmother, his stupid dead father, his stupid mother for abandoning him. There was a crackle. Godric's eyes flew open, staring in amazement at the roaring fire in front of him. He looked around. There wasn't anyone there. He turned back to the fire, and then glanced down at his balled fists. Slowly, he unclenched them and fumbled for a stick. He focused all of his new energy into it, expecting a fire to ignite at the end. Instead, he got nothing. Godric tried again, his face contorting in effort. Nothing happened. Slowly, he placed the twig back onto the ground and closed his eyes tiredly. Just as he was drifting asleep, a glowing heat grew next to him. Godric jumped awake and scrambled backwards. But it was not a fire that was glowing on the damp soil.

It was a wand.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Haha! Almost got me!" Godric laughed as he dodged a strike.

It had been five years since he'd run away from his stepmother and Godric was practising sword fighting with his best friend, Adam. The small town of Sherborne was decorated with banners for the annual Easter celebration, and the sun illuminated their bright colours. Spring in Gloucestershire was a mix of heavy downpours and beautiful, sun-bathed days – typical British weather.

"How are you so good at this!?" Adam panted as he lunged towards Godric.

"Practice?" he replied, not breaking his focus. It was true; Godric had practiced. He'd gotton himself an apprenticeship at the local Blacksmith's, which meant testing the newly-made weapons. Due to the strenuous actions, Godric's muscles had developed and he had become a strong, handsome young man.

He'd met Adam while he was working. The boy had visited the Blacksmith's to pick up tools for his father. Well, he wasn't really a boy – only 3 months younger than Godric. However, Adam preferred literature to sports; sketching designs rather than making them a reality. Somehow the two had struck a heated debate on whether pigs would ever fly, which led to an unlikely friendship.

"Ouch!" Adam yelped as Godric pushed him to the ground with the hilt of his sword.

"Okay, okay! I surrender!" he laughed as Godric smiled smugly down at him. That smile, it reminded him of a lazy cat. Adam took Godric's outstretched arm and hauled himself to his feet. Godric had promised to teach him the art of the sword-fight, under the pretence that he wanted to impress the local ladies. But Adam wasn't interested in the Sherborne girls. He was interested in Godric.

Of course, he could never tell anyone that – he was already deemed the misfit in town. If he confessed his attraction to Godric – or any male for that matter – he would be shunned by his family, his few friends and even the beggars on the street.

"Yoohoo? Anybody ho-ome?" Godric sing-songed as he waved a calloused hand in-front of Adam's face.

"Oh… sorry! I didn't realise I was daydreaming," Adam replied, his thoughtful expression melting into a warm smile. "Were you saying anything?"

"Just that I better get back to work. If I want the boss to feed me, I should start moving!" Godric picked Adam's sword off the ground and thrust it into the old leather scabbard hanging around his waist. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

Adam's face was blank.

"You agreed to tutor my reading and writing?"

Recollection dawned slowly upon the younger boy's face. "Oh, of course!"

How had he forgotten?! Suddenly, Adam thought of his paper-strewn bedroom. He had to clean it! He hadn't cleaned his room in months! The piles of books, scrolls and empty inkpots had grown tall, and you could hardly see the floorboards from loose papers.

"Right! I'll see you tomorrow then!" he said over his shoulder, hurrying away from his golden-haired friend.

"Bye!" Godric waved. What in the world had gotton into Adam? He thought. Pushing his concerns aside, Godric strode in the opposite direction, towards his workplace and home.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The sound of metal wheels against harsh cobblestones was loud as Rowena sat in her carriage. She was returning home after her fifth annual visit to Helga's since they'd discovered their unlikely similarity. Rowena took a piece of parchment out of the trunk lying on the plush seat next to her. It had been a while since she'd tried to solve some of the many numeracy questions her father had set her. Dipping a quill into a pot of black ink, she began to scribble equations. But alas, however hard she tried; the numbers could just not assemble themselves into logical patterns.

Feeling defeated, Rowena carefully placed the parchment on top of her trunk to dry and began afresh. This time, she wrote a letter to Helga. It may only have been a few hours since she'd left Wales, but Rowena missed her bubbly, brown-haired friend.

_If only we could live closer to each other _Rowena thought.

Sadly, Rowena could not leave Scotland permanently as she was the heiress to Drummond Castle and would disgrace her family if she sold their beautiful home. She was nearing her 18th birthday, and her father was wondering why Rowena wasn't engaging with any of her suitors. Rowena could practically hear her father lecturing her on the importance of finding a suitable husband.

"_Now, Rowena," _he would say, _"It's up to you to carry on the Ravenclaw bloodline. You are my only child and this castle will one day be yours. You must find a wealthy, respectable man to wed…"_

Rowena rolled her eyes. Why on earth did she have to marry? She could easily run the castle herself; after all, she basically ran it when her father was away. But her father seemed set on her finding someone.

A bump in the road pulled her out of her thoughts. The carriage suddenly pulled to a stop.

_What in Merlin's name…_ Rowena thought.

The carriage had halted so abruptly, Rowena's ink had spilt all over her velvet skirts. Sighing, she tried to mop it up with the parchment paper, but the heavy black liquid just seeped further into the rich material. Giving up, Rowena set down the parchment and pulled back the curtains on the carriage door.

She was outside a small village and it seemed to be preparing for something. People milled about with baskets of ribbon and flowers. Musicians walked towards the town centre with instruments in hand. Everyone was smiling; laughing at each-other's jokes. Everyone but the carriage driver and a blond-haired man. The stranger was picking up metal objects which were strewn about the road. He was having a heated argument with the carriage driver, who was gesturing madly at the road and his horses.

Just as the blond man had finished shoving the various metal things into a woven bag, the carriage driver pushed him and they all fell to the ground again. Then the blond man pushed him back. Then

an all-out fight began.

Rowena sighed impatiently. _Men._

It was obvious to Rowena that this fight would last all day if no one intervened, so she unlocked the carriage door and stepped out gracefully.

Rowena Ravenclaw knew how to get attention without _getting attention._ She took a few steps towards the men, who were on the ground by now, and stood above them. After a few moments - in which any spectators had seen her and fled, knowing that the game was about to change - Rowena coughed quietly.

The fighting stopped.

The two men slowly looked up to see Rowena glaring down at them.

After a beat, they quickly untangled themselves from each other and stood. Both looked at their feet. Rowena smirked; they looked like shamed puppies.

Seconds passed while Rowena just stared menacingly at them.

Finally, the carriage driver spoke. "I'm very sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean to halt your journey. It's just that _he_ managed to walk right in front of my horses," and then under his breath "bloody idiot."

The blond-haired man looked up then and scowled at the driver.

Rowena was slightly taken aback for a moment. Up close, the man looked younger, more like a boy. _Maybe even my age._ His face was softer than expected, with baby blue eyes. If he wasn't scowling so much, he could look angelic.

Rowena looked away quickly. She didn't want to be caught staring at this stranger.

Her gaze was brought back to him when he spat out "wasn't _my_ fault you were going so quickly. This is a village, there are going to be people crossing the road all the time. You should have slowed down."

Before another fight broke out, Rowena cleared her throat gently. "I can see both of you believe yourselves the innocent one in this story, but it's obvious that you're both to blame. You-" she said, looking at the carriage driver, "-should not have been driving so fast. And you- I'm sorry, what's your name?"

"Godric." The young man said, still glaring at the driver.

"Well, Godric. You should look where you're going. Now, can you just clear the road so I can get home? I have important business."

"Important business?" Godric snorted, "What kind of _girl_ has important business?"

There was a pause as Godric's intense gaze met Rowena's. The carriage driver was looking between them with a hint of fear, waiting for what the lady would say. After a moment Rowena's mouth spread into a catlike grin and she took a step closer to the golden-haired youth.

"Just so you know, I am Rowena Ravenclaw."

The only sense of intimidation shown by Godric was the slight shuffle of his feet.

"So?" He said, a cocky look on his face.

Rowena took another step closer to him so that she was towering over the still growing Godric.

"So, that makes me a very important _girl_ with very important tasks. I'm the heiress of Drummond Castle. I ensure that my people are well looked after and that any blundering fools like _you_ are punished adequately."

Rowena smiled thinly at Godric as true fear and a little hint of awe shone from his eyes.

Without breaking eye contact with the young man, she said "Let's go."


End file.
